Adventure Magazine Cover — page 22: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

20 explosively and nodded to the officers. It was not often that the law came to the AK, and the old man looked at them curiously. “Howdy, George,”’ said the sheriff. “Lo, Scotty; hyah, Porter,’’ Bonnette shifted his chew and waited for them to state their errand. “‘Where’s the boys?” asked Scotty, glanc- ing around. “‘Well,” the old man scratched his head, “I’ve only got three workin’ here now. T’day is pay-day.” Soy that they’ve gone to town, e ”) “Follerin’ the natcheral inclination of cowpunchers, I’d say that’s where they’ve gone. Whatcha want ’em fer?” “Oh, nothin’ much,” Scotty sighed with evident relief. He really didn’t want them very badly. “You heard about the hold-up, didn’t yuhe” asked Porter. Bonnette hadn’t. And he grew so in- terested in Porter’s recital of it that he bit off two more chews of tobacco during the telling, which swelled his cheek until one eye was almost closed. “Well, the dern cusses!” he said earnestly. “Thirty thousand dollars, eh. Worth tak- in’, eh? Who wouldn’t? Got anythin’ to work on, Scotty?” “Well,” said Scotty darkly, “we might have more’n anybody’d think, George. Did the boys find their horses?” “Hm-m-m-m,” the old man scratched his head. ‘Seems to me I did hear one of ’em say they walked home, and that their horses was here when they arrived. Them broncs was raised here at the AK, and they’d head for home. I didn’t pay much attention, but I did hear Eskimo say that somebody turned their broncs loose in town last night.”’ “I jist wondered if they got ’em,” said Scotty. Bonnette squinted at Scotty, his brows lifted inquiringly. “Didja ride all the way out here to find that out?” “Not exactly, George. Yuh see, them three jaspers locked me in my own jail last night. Didja know that?” — “In yore own jail? No, I didn’t know it, Scotty.” “Yeah, they did, George. And I was in there when word came of the robbery, and didn’t know a thing about it. They’re liable for blockin’ the law.” W. C. TUTTLE “Yeah, I s’pose they are. Huh!’ Bon- nette turned away, choking a trifle, and when he turned back there were tears in his eyes. ‘““We came down here to see about it,” said Porter. “It’s a of a note, when things like that happen, Bonnette. Them three fellers ort to be run out of the country.” ‘“Vea-a-ah?” The old man looked nar- rowly at Porter. “Why don’t yuh go ahead and doit, Porter. They’re all of age, yuh know. And there ain’t a milk drinker in the crowd; so they really wouldn’t suffer if yuh took ’em away from the cows.” “Oh, they ain’t so tough,” retorted Porter. ‘“They’re not runnin’ this country. They’ve kinda had their own way in Blue Wells for a long time, but now is the time to call a halt. We're civilized, Pil tell yuh that.” “Who do yuh mean, Porter?” “Well, all of us—ain’t we?” “I dunno. Sometimes I wonder if we are. Weain’t savages. We don’t worship no idols, nor we don’t eat each other. Hold- in’ up a train is a sign of civilization. I dunno about lockin’ a sheriff in his cell. It sure as ain’t old-fashioned, cause I never heard of it bein’ done before.” “Well, I don’t care a ——!” snorted the sheriff. ‘They done it to me, and I’m sure goin’ to let ’em know that I’m sore about it.” “Yo’re probably more interested in that than yuh are in findin’ the men who held up the train.” “Vuh think so, do yuh?” growled Porter. “Well, I’ll tell yuh we’re plenty interested in that, too. C’mon, Scotty; we’re jist wastin’ time around here.”’ “You don’t need to get mad at me,” laughed Bonnette. “I never locked up any sheriffs.” ‘“‘Well, yore men did!” snapped Scotty. Bonnette laughed at the sheriff’s red face. “T’ll prob’ly fire ’em for not havin’ more respect for the law.” “Aw, c’mon,” urged Porter. with ’em; we’ve got work to do.” They rode away from the AK, heading back toward Blue Wells, no better off for their long ride to the AK. “T’ve jist been thinkin’ that folks around here don’t show a —— of a lot of respect for the law,” said Scotty Olson. “Well,” growled Porter, ‘it’s up to us to sory cCoOnniclboooks C@